"Nothing--that is, I don't know." Marjorie looked after her friend's rapidly disappearing figure, a puzzled expression in her brown eyes. Mary Raymond viewed Marjorie with a faint frown. It was rather provoking in Marjorie to express so much concern over this Constance Stevens. After their long separation she felt that her chum's every thought ought to be for her alone. And in that instant a certain fabled green-eyed monster, that Mary had never believed could exist for her, suddenly sprang into life and whispered to her that, perhaps, after all, she was not first in Marjorie Dean's heart. CHAPTER III SOWING THE SEED OF DISCORD "Before you talk of another single thing, Mary Raymond, please tell me what you mean by a 'mysterious mission' that is 'part sad and part glad,'" exclaimed Marjorie. Mr. Raymond was occupying the front seat of the automobile, beside Mrs. Dean, who drove the car, a birthday present from her husband, and the two girls had the tonneau of the automobile to themselves. They had scarcely deposited Mary's luggage on the floor of the car and settled themselves for the short ride to the Deans' home when Marjorie had made her eager inquiry into the nature of the "mysterious mission" that had so aroused her curiosity. "Well," began Mary, brightening, "father and I _have_ come to see you on a mission, but the only mystery about it is that you don't as yet know why we've come. I thought 'mysterious mission' looked rather well on paper so I set it down." "But you're going to tell me about it this instant, you wicked, tantalizing girl," insisted Marjorie with pretended sternness. "I thought perhaps you might be able to guess certain things from my letter," continued Mary. "You see, I wrote you that mother would have to go to Colorado for the winter and----" "You are going with her," supplemented Marjorie. "No, that's a wild guess. I'm not going west with her. Father says I must stay in the East and go through my sophomore year in high school." "But you can't stay at home by yourself, Mary. Just think how dreadful that would be for you, with your father away most of the time," reminded Marjorie. Mary's father was a traveling salesman for a large furniture manufactory, and spent the greater part of his time on the road. "That's just the point," responded Mary. "I know I can't stay at home alone. Mother's illness and what is to become of me when father goes on the road again is the sad part of it, but the glad part is--oh, Marjorie, can't you guess now?" Mary caught Marjorie's hand in hers. "We've come all the way to Sanford to see if," her voice rose high with excitement, "there isn't a little corner in the Dean barracks that a certain lieutenant can call her own for this year and----" "Mary!" It was Marjorie's turn to become excited. "Do you really mean that you wish to come to live with me and enter Sanford High? That we'll be sophomores together?"